A Movie Review

A Movie Review

So I love going to the movies. And my film DNA comes straight from Mom. Before my mom saw Dad for the first time and declared to her sisters she’d be marrying him someday soon, her first loves were music, dancing, and the movies. If you’ve heard me sing or seen me dance, you already know I went one-for-three in the Mama Von Bulow genetics department.

Before she met Dad, Mom wouldn’t hesitate an instant going to the movies alone. And she continued going solo to the movies rather than joining the men in her family at ballgames, but gradually gave in…on occasion. Guess that’s why I’ve always appreciated strong women and never could resist independent ladies who dare to do the silver screen experience alone.

Later, when it was just me and Mom, our Sunday ritual was a matinee and dinner. I’d screen the films and generate my own thumbs up or down litmus test. Bad language sent up a red flag…unless it was coming from Paul Newman. And I didn’t mind seeing the same film twice. The movies that moved or inspired me usually had the same impact on Mom. Shucks, Mom could’ve seen Coal Miner’s Daughter every day of the week. I’ve probably seen Stand by Me at least thirty times.

There’s just something magical about a story that’s visually larger than life but still capable of touching your heart. I know Mom loved Country music but she also loved Saturday nights with our family together in front of the TV watching Cliffy Stone comin’ to us from Five Points in El Monte. I never get tired of Stand by Me. Director Rob Reiner will be my Hall of Famer forever because, for 90-glorious minutes, he always takes me back to a treasured childhood and an older brother gone much too soon.

And sometimes it seems kind of weird to me that I look forward to the parts of my fave films that move me to tears. One of the quotes I’ll never forget comes from a then terminally ill North Carolina State Basketball Coach Jim Valvano, who said “If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that’s a full day. That’s a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week; you’re going to have something special.” When I realize I’m not working hard at “…having something special” the movies can be pretty damn effective medicine. And there’s no limit and there are no harmful side effects. As you can guess, the best ones take me back to family.

So I’ve seen the film Whiplash four freakin’ times. My friends are so tired of me talking about the movie that on reading this piece, they just might UN-friend me on Facebook. To my knowledge, Liam at Gale’s, and my marketing buddy, Philipp, are the only two human beings on the face of the earth who’ve actually seen the film.

For me, Whiplash travels an unlikely music conservatory route to family. The movie took me back to my dad’s moral support for me through a miserable dental school experience. During my interview, the Dean of Admissions observed that my dad’s business representative job with the Teamsters “…was good in its day.” I asked the Dean about his thoughts on slavery. The next four years proved to be pretty much downhill. In fact, it took years to regain my old confidence.

Whiplash explores what it takes to be great; and do the ends justify the means? Miles Teller amazingly plays an ambitious first-year student attending a prestigious east coast music conservatory. J.K. Simmons is the unforgettable Terrence Fletcher, a terrifying instructor/mentor in search of the next Charlie Parker. Watching the film, I was reminded of how single-minded and determined I was as when I was 19. And I guess, at this time in my life, I shouldn’t have been surprised by identifying more with the mentor than the student, but I was.

After all, my parents wanted something more for me. And I want more for my own Temple City family; the family with whom I’m blessed to work and serve. If you can help others become more than they’ve been told they could be, in my book, that’s being great.

And maybe the difference between Whiplash and the viewer is all about the goal, being great as opposed to gaining the acknowledgment of greatness. Seems like the distinction goes to serving others rather than serving self; maybe it’s more about growing up or loving versus ambition. In the end, it’s a choice and no matter what, the journey isn’t for the faint of heart.

Might have to see Whiplash at least one more time. And I’m hoping the 19-year old in me is determined enough to be half as great as my mom and dad.